Affection
by Min Daae
Summary: Lucivar and Daemon, being brotherly. Lucivar makes bad choices, sometimes. Daemon isn't overly sympathetic; mostly amused. Fluffy, rating to be safe.


"Mother Night," Lucivar said, and, "Mother _Night_." Daemon took one look at his younger brother and raised a single well shaped eyebrow.

"You seem out of sorts, Prick."

Lucivar moaned incoherently and sank into a chair with obvious relief. "Don't. Even talk to me. The Darkness is most assuredly _not _merciful. I think my _head _is going to come off." Daemon fought hard not to be amused. It was proving difficult.

"I'll keep an eye on it and let you know if it does," he quipped. "The High Lord said that you were out with Jaenelle. I suppose that answers most of the questions I could ask, except, perhaps, what you were thinking. Brandy, or a basin?"

Lucivar rolled his eyes upward to look balefully at Daemon. "Damn you, Sadi. My _ribs. _Can't you do _anything _to settle her down? I thought for sure being married would help a little…"

Daemon let his grin be a little toothy. "I like my cat with claws, thank you very much." Lucivar made a vague noise and Daemon fought not to laugh. "You did ask, Prick. I was just answering your question."

"I hate you. Do you know that? I really, sincerely, hate you," Lucivar said, without venom, and lowered his head into his hands. "Marian's going to kill me. I left her alone with Daemonar all day. 'Just for a little while,' she said, 'I just want to try something,' she said…damn Cat and her 'experiments.'"

Daemon turned to get the blood wine, so that Lucivar would not see him smile. He suspected that it would do nothing for his little brother's mood. "You really didn't think this through, did you?"

"I think everything through. I never do anything impulsive or reckless or – horrors – stupid. _Ever. _Now shut up and give me something to drink." Daemon shoved the bottle in one hand and a glass in the other.

"Your wish is my command. Do you want a backrub, too?"

"Think I'll wait on that one. Thanks for the offer." Lucivar set down the glass and took a gulp of undiluted wine straight from the bottle without even wincing. Daemon whistled, softly, and Lucivar rolled his eyes up to look at Daemon again, gaze slightly bloodshot. "You'd need it too. Trust me."

"I'll take your word for it. Unlike some Eyrien idiots I know, when my wife gets that glint in her eye, _I _know to make excuses about executive business and run for it. You seem to walk right into it every time."

Lucivar groaned. "It's the expression, Sadi. She gives me this look like it would make her whole damn life if I'd just go along with her this once. And it always sounds harmless when she _talks _about it. It's just the – uh, doing. That gets a little bit. Painful." He rubbed the back of his neck. "She did seem a little upset, though. Guess it wasn't supposed to work like that."

"It never is." Daemon sat down in the chair opposite his brother and examined him over steepled fingers. "The High Lord is a little miffed, though."

Lucivar winced. "Is he. I hope he can wait to bite my head off until it stops throbbing."

"Oh, I'm sure he will. I think he wants you to appreciate the full impact. So what exactly did you do? Nothing was exactly clear, and of course Jaenelle's note was quite vague."

Lucivar buried his face in his hands again, after draining the last of the bottle. "I don't want to talk about it," he moaned.

"If you 'don't want to talk about it' with me, I will personally see to it that the witches don't leave you alone for a single day the rest of this week," Daemon informed Lucivar, mildly. Lucivar looked up again, balefully.

"I could kill you. If I felt like it. Right now. I wouldn't even feel bad about getting bits of Daemon on your nice walls."

Daemon smirked. "I know you wouldn't, Prick. My charm and good looks are the only thing resembling a leash anyone has on our Witch, and you're the one most in need of help in that direction. So go ahead. I won't even laugh at you too much if you're honest."

Lucivar made an incoherent noise that on better days might have approximated a growl, and stared balefully at the empty bottle on the table. "All right, all right. She wanted to know if – what did she call it? – 'jump the Winds' from the Khaldaron Run. While taking it." He rolled his shoulders back. "I don't know how she does it. It looked like she was going to crash into the bottom of the ravine. So I dove after her and then she was gone, and while I was panicking trying to find her, I plowed into the ground."

Daemon winced. "…I'll wager that didn't feel good."

"No," said Lucivar, tightly, "It didn't, and even worse when I dragged myself up and she had those big, blue, damp eyes because she'd thought I understood what she was going to do. Which of course I didn't. And then Kaelas showed up, because of course he'd heard his Lady getting upset, and sat on my chest and gave me an earful about keeping an eye on the Lady, Jaenelle trying to tug him off the whole time." Lucivar rubbed his forehead. "So that's…about what happened. Leaving out the bit where Jaenelle took some meat out of the kitchen for the Arcerian cats, so Mrs. Beale yelled at me too. And then Saetan came down and hauled Jaenelle to his study, I hope for a serious talking to. I staggered over here because you don't yell. Often."

Daemon raised both eyebrows, a little, and examined his brother, who simply sat with his head in his hands, looking pained even with the expression on his face invisible. And eventually stood up and touched his temples, finding the very little Craft he knew to ease pain and using it.

"I guess I can spare a little sympathy. As long as you recognize that you did get yourself into this."

"I thought she might get into a little less trouble. With Twilight's Dawn. But no. She seems to find even _more. _Somehow." He moaned, faintly. "And then there's Daemonar to deal with. Saetan had better hold off a _week._"

Daemon allowed himself an almost smile. "I'll let Marian know that you've had a rough day and not to yell. And Tackle can help with Daemonar, can't he? He seems to enjoy playing with the little monster."

A low growl. "That's my son, you bastard."

"Exactly," Daemon said cheerfully, not taking his hands from Lucivar's temples. "I'll talk to Saetan. I'm sure he'll agree that enough is enough. And maybe next time Jaenelle suggests something you'll remember not to go along with it."

"Maybe." He paused. "Probably not."

"Probably not," Daemon agreed, and then stepped back. "Now go. Get out of my house."

Lucivar gave him a tired smile and straightened, rustling his wings. "Yeah, sure," he said, and then paused. "Daemon…make sure Jaenelle knows I'm all right? She seemed pretty upset."

Daemon's lips curled into a smile that was familiar to both of them, from years and courts now long gone. "I'll make sure she feels better," he assured his brother. "I have my ways."

Lucivar made a face at him, sticking out his tongue, and took off into the dark. Daemon watched him go with a small, affectionate smile.

"It's nice to know you still think I'm a safe place, Prick," he murmured, and slipped quietly back inside to stoke the fire.


End file.
